


It's all Walmarts Fault

by xXScreenSaverXx (orphan_account)



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Cake, M/M, Not Beta Read, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Walmart, What Was I Thinking?, Will Graham is So Done, ha as if anyone would want to beta read this pile of trash, i want to die, im not even american why am i writing like this, its all walmarts fault i swear, its not even fluff, oh yeah the shows american, return of the horribly morally dubious will graham, what even are these tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 22:52:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13421310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/xXScreenSaverXx
Summary: He couldn’t deny it, having a classical-music loving, gentlemanly maybe-therapist around never got old. But the one damn thing Will hated was how Hannibal managed to upstage him in all of his attempts at romantic gestures, ever!He was going to go one better, and beat that handsome smirk right off his face. Sure, Will didn’t know the first thing about romantic gestures or ‘theatrical declarations of love’, but hey -Mama didn’t raise no quitter.Maybe the real issue here was how they weren’t actually dating. Or that Will had rebuked all advances to date. Eh. He could work with it.Or: Hannibal attempts to woo Will with gifts and gestures, completely oblivious to Will’s own feeble attempts to reciprocate and start a relationship like a normal, heathy human being. Dang.





	It's all Walmarts Fault

**Author's Note:**

> I can't write well and I gave up halfway through. Well dang, not its never gonna work. But hey, please leave a comment or whatever. We all need a little self esteem to keep us going through the seriously cold British weather. Like, why am I writing like this. I'm not even American. What is my life? HOw the hell should I know what Walmart is like? Ughhhh

Will glared down at the seemingly-innocent package, seething. His morning had gotten off to a decent start – the dogs hadn’t woken him early, his night surprisingly devoid of the usual night terrors that left him panting and sweating; he’d had enough milk to perfect his coffee. All in all, nothing to complain about.

No, what had him up in arms was the Tupperware now taking up residence on his dining table. After carefully inspecting it, it seemed friendly enough. He couldn’t se inside, but at least there wasn’t any mysterious ticking – these days, that seemed to pretty much be Wills entire criteria. Serial killers galore, he could deal with. Bomb threats? No, thank you. Hell, he’d take Gideon over that clusterfuck.  
Lowering himself to crouch eye-level with it, he hummed suspiciously while glaring at the object. After several long moments of scrutiny, and several impatient barks from the direction of the closed backdoor – damn it, he was missing the dog’s walking time! – Will thought, Fuck it. Peeling back the infuriatingly baby blue lid, he risked a peek inside. And groaned.

Brownies. Fucking brownies. What kind of self-respecting cannibal made brownies? Granted, he’d probably switched the milk for blood. And the eggs. And if he could get away with it, probably even the flour for some kind of liver-intestine concoction. Come to think of it, he mused, the whole thing was probably a thinly veiled human heart, relying on Will’s sleep-driven mind to hide the evidence. Or something.

Raising the box closer, he cautiously took a small sniff. Chocolate. Huh. 

Well, he was pretty hungry. And he’d forgotten to buy groceries again (for the third week in a row, but he really wasn’t in the business of advertising that small fact). So, ignoring the suspicious salty aftertaste that tasted pretty suspiciously of blood, he ate one. And another. And ano- okay, damnit, he ate the box. 

And then came the self-loathing. Not for the calories – Will lived for those. No, self-loathing for the fact that Hannibal clearly made them with him in mind. And yet, Will had nothing to give the man in return. Kind of a shit thing to do, he mused, already whirling around in a desperate search for- ah. There it was. He rubbed his hands together, cackling. “Let the cake commence!”

\------

Never let it be said that William Graham is a good baker. Or even a mediocre one, for that matter. He’d always thought that getting cake batter on the ceiling was nigh on impossible, only used as exaggeration in second-rate novels and the shitty fanfiction he’d once made the mistake of reading. But there is was, in all its slimy goodness, dripping slowly off the whitewashed ceiling and onto the counter, where several hastily strewn bowls already law, forgotten.

So, Will went to Walmart, desperately trying not to acknowledge the fact that the doctor-turned therapist would know for sure. Would this be considered rude? He sure hoped not.

The cake itself Will found adorable, with cute little lime green flowers, and pink butterscotch icing both inside and on top of the coffee flavoured halves. There would be no fooling Hannibal, for even a second. He huffed a sigh. It would have to do.

Leaving it for the man in question to find was surprisingly easy. Appallingly so. But then again, he supposed, the man wasn’t used to being hunted or attacked. It stood to reason that he wouldn’t worry about security. Will had quickly hopped past the security cameras, avoiding detection like a bona fide badass. He really needed to reconsider his life choices. Maybe he should discuss them with Hannibal in their session on Friday…?

He crouched, hidden away in the bushes when Hannibal opened his door. After a moment of confusion about the small package on his doorstep, the man looked down at it, considering. With a long finger he flicked up the lid, studying its contents. After a long, confused moment, he huffed a sigh and picked it up, holding it at arm’s length, he brought it back inside with him and firmly closed the door. Will smiled, and nodded to himself. Surely, he’d at least appreciate the gesture!

\------

Friday came quicker than expected, and so did Will’s outstanding appointment with one, Doctor Lector. He wandered into the room, quickly choosing a sofa to slouch into while Hannibal prepared his many notes and folders. For a while, things seemed to be going decent between the two. But much to the investigators disappointment, there was no mention of a cake, Walmart or otherwise. Until-  
“I think somebody tried to poison me the other day,” Hannibal mused suddenly during one of their many lapses into silence. Will straightened up, worried.

“What?” He asked, suddenly concerned for his therapist.

“Yes,” he hummed. “With a cake. Quite odd, really, but I suppose one must expect all angles of attack these days.”

Will wanted to groan, he really did. But, in consideration for the doctor’s feelings, he didn’t. Instead, he chose to facepalm, all the while wondering to himself: ‘do you think he’d notice me if I dumped a heart onto the dining table?’

This was the fourth attempt in a month. Will blamed Walmart. Hannibal was sick of getting attempts on his life. And the author couldn’t be arsed to write a proper ending. So, things worked out for the best, really!


End file.
